


In Death, Sacrifice

by Eluvian



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair's Death, Brecilian Forest, Elven love, Elves, F/M, Goodbye, Letter, Mahariel's diary, Mourning, Pain, Singing, forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 11:49:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eluvian/pseuds/Eluvian
Summary: Hava Mahariel gets a letter about the greatest loss of her life. She goes out in the forest to mourn the person she loved.





	In Death, Sacrifice

 

 

The Warden-Commander was staring at the paper in her shaking hands. She read the letter the third times, and still could not believe her eyes. Although deep inside her she knew it was all true. Not just a bad dream. Not one of those nightmares with the darkspawn and Urthemiel, the Archdemon. It was worse, far worse than any of those.

’ I am so sorry, my lady.’

She heard the words from a distance, like she was under water. She couldn't breathe either. The young Warden who gave her the letter was standing next to her for a few minutes.

’You may go.’

She said. The voice was week, silent as a grave, her look stared somewhere in the distance, through the walls, through everything.

Than she left the keep. She wrote a letter explaining that she went to the Brecilian forest on a personal reason. She didn't take anything, only her bow and arrows, and her diary.

 

The forest was quiet, as always. The thin veil between summer and autumn lingered in the air which was warm and comfortable. The trees' leeves still sparkling green as they were at spring. It looked like they will never fade, never fall down, that this beauty is simply eternal and never-changing. It was a lie. She knew that, when they first came here. A Grey Warden best of all knows that death awaits every mortal and they can do nothing about it. Except enjoy life while they still have it.

She knew where to look for the place she wanted to go. It was near an abandoned camp in which the Dalish elves whose help they asked for during the fifth Blight lived. That memory still lived inside her like it was yesterday. Zathrian, the werewolves, the paths in the forest, the sylvans... and the rose.

That was the place where Alistair gave her this flower, which he carried from Lothering, and said that she reminds her of the rose, because she is the only beauty that can be found amidst all this darkness.

She remembered the words. She heard them in her mind and dreams far too much to be able to forget them. It was either a blessing or a curse, she couldn't decide which one. But, eventually, it was a blessing. She wanted that memory. She needed it. What would be left of Alistair if not the memories? That was all she carried now and cherished and protected and wouldn't let go. She knew she will have to move on. And she knew she will. She has to. The people need her.

But not now. Not yet. She couldn't let it go. Couldn't let _him_ go.

She couldn't hold back her tears as crossing between the majestic trees, which only let through the last flashes of light. The sun was going down, its warm color of fire painted the green leaves. They were glimmering as the wind stroke the branches. It sounded like a sweet melody.

For one moment, her heart stopped because she thought she might be hearing the Calling. But no. That was not possible. She had at least fifteen more years. She calmed down realizing it was just her imagination.

Finally she found it. She reached a small clearing on the west side of a creek. A large rock stood next to a tree. This tree had no leaves. Neither that time when she first came here nor now. She didn't have an explanation for that. Probably it was the same cause as for the rose that was blooming in ash and dust. Only that this tree was the opposite. Not life amidst death, but death amidst life. Every coin has two sides, after all.

She set on the sunlit rock, on which they sat ten years ago. She put her diary next to herself. She carried it all along the way.

For one moment, she imagined that he is with her. Like then. She closed her eyes and just enjoyed the sun stroking her skin. The subtle wind blew her hair into her eyes but she didn't care.

She sighed and then opened her diary. It always opened at the same page because the rose was inside it. Protected, conserved and never-changing. Just like the Dalish wanted to be. But this rose was an actual memory, a part of her  life kept in the book, between her own written words. She took the rose out. It was dry, lifeless, but didn't seem lifeless. It was bright red just when picked, although a bit darker, as the skin gets darker if one spends too much time under the sun, but it was the same.

She didn't want to read. But when she looked at the pages, her eyes just ran through the letters and lines.

_He gave me this. He said I remind him a flower. Noone has ever... alright, Tamlen said the same once upon a time, but we were young. Children. That was something else completely. I've never felt anything like this. I don't know if I'm allowed to feel this. I am afraid. What if he dies? What if I lose him? I know I shouldn't think about the worst, but, after all, we are Wardens. It can happen every moment. What should I say to him? Or should I wait? He must know how I feel. I hope he knows. He has to._

She turned a few pages.

_He kissed me._

_I know I should sleep and prepare for the next day, and instead I'm writing at the candle light while almost falling asleep, but... he kissed me... I had to write this down. Not that I could forget this. Never. I keep telling myself it was a dream, but it wasn't. It's the truth. By Mythal, I wonder what will Morrigan think of us. I wonder what will be the look on her face like tomorrow. Not that I care for her opinion. Oh, maybe I do. But that won't change anything._

She laughed and cried at the same time. She closed the diary and slipped down from the rock, than placed the rose on it. She let her tears flow down on her face, not caring about the wind which hurt like an aggressive, cold grain. This time, the cold felt good. It calmed her down, like the hot feelings and the cool wind would somehow neutralize each other, creating a general balance.

’Dareth shiral, vhenan. In time, I shall join you.’

She whispered to the wind. And than she sang. The melody was the same Leliana once sang to her, but it had Dalish origin. It was a last goodbye to those who had passed, an escort through the way in the Beyond, on which they go to a place no one ever saw and came back to tell about. Uthenera. The long sleep. The eternal sleep.

 

Hahren na melana sahlin

Emma ir abelas

Souver'inan isala hamin

Vhenan him dor felas

In Uthenera, na revas

 

Vir sulahn'nehn

Vir dirthera

Vir samahl'la numin

Vir lath sav'unin


End file.
